Smoke over the Aegean
17068 Devonshire St. (west of Balboa, in Northridge)
Phone: 818-366-7573 | map

Why Ocean? Well, it's Mediterranean, and that's about as much explanation as I can offer, and it doesn't matter. It's got its culinary and social head together.

It isn't as confusing as people seem to think; turn into the driveway between Ocean Cafe and Lakeshore Learning Materials, park in the expansive lot in back, and enter in the rear of the building.

The interior is quite nice--butterscotch walls with ornate curtains and a chrome thicket of hookah necks, a banquet hall with a dancefloor--and you might admire it as you pass through all the way up to the front to the big covered patio. It's nicer and breezier, Devonshire isn't that loud, and you won't hear the music blaring inside.

They are attentive with the coals here, bringing red shards to tong atop the tinfoiled shisha bowl. The flavors are well-mixed, subtle yet buzzy. The tall, clean-shirted young man named Mimo will come by to make sure your evening is pleasant.

It's more of a restaurant that has hookah rather than a hookah joint that has food; too often the kitchen of a hookah place is an afterthought, offering hackingly dry koobideh or some familiar fries with dipping sauces, but Ocean's Mediterranean heart comes through.

Small plates will quickly fill every centimeter of your table. Hummus, of course, and labne, a thick, yogurty cream cheese, milk-white and sweet, bookend your appetizers.

I'm hooked on the kibbeh, four lemon-shaped spheroids of bulgur fried golden brown and bubbly; they're juice-saturated with ground beef, browned pine nuts and a wriggle of citrus, and really moist, on par with Skaf's Lebanese in Glendale. I think these will be a habit when coming here. The kibbeh? Yeah, we'll get the kibbeh.

The grape leaves are also deliciously finger-wetting, the leaves holding a thick finger of rice, almost risotto in consistency.

The makanek is fun occasionally, near-black Lebanese sausagettes, dry and scratchy in deameanor but benefiting from a squeeze of lemon or a swipe through some tabbouleh, itself a chopped wet heap of parsley, cucumber, tomato and olive oil without any bulgur.





Intended for large, hungry parties commanding enough tables to accomodate all the plates, there is a honking big platter with six skewers, resting above a mound of short-grain, fluffy rice and beneath curls of white onion and sprinkles of parsley.

The beef is the fight-over feature of this shared experience, aggressively done, browned through but juicy and toothsome. The char is wonderfully crunchy, the rub widely seasoned with a pleasant spice that awakens a few minutes later. The chicken is at the same level of quality, the full flavor of the fowl pulled forth by the grill. Both are as refreshingly moist as everything else. The kafta is quite good but not the champion of the three, blackened and gamy in a good way, threaded with green spices and less heartburn-prone than many koobidehs and bargs I've sampled elsewhere.

It can be as expensive as you want it to be, but we tend to congregate with good friends over beers and a flotilla of plates and a hookah, so we live it up a bit.

Many thanks to Doug and Rosina for introducing us.

Someone tricked me into loving raw food
3711 Cahuenga Blvd. W. (in Studio City)
Phone: 818-308-7420 | map | website

The exterior is loud and yellow and has a typeface that makes my inner graphic designer weep, but SunPower is a raw/vegan/organic gift from the heavens, and I believe most fervently that they should be in L.A. proper, closer to me*.

The interior is newly designed, elegantly jazzy with creamy mango walls and slick mahogany furniture. A bluesy wailing drips from the speakers.

The people here are friendly and positive. As in "they know secrets of the universe" kind of friendly and positive. In a good way.

I am not entirely sure how they do this, and it looks much better in real life, but this smells amazing. The left half of this dish is Raw Kelp Noodles: glass noodles made of kelp, not overly elastic or clumped, tossed with a creamy marinara. There are vegetables chopped inside, indecipherable (although I suspect mushrooms, onion and tomato are harmonizing here) but adding texture. Red peppers lie atop with a drizzle of basil ranch. I am impressed. It is incredibly rich and flavorful.

The other half is an all-kale salad. Now, kale is one bossy, opinionated leaf, but this is "massaged" kale, whatever that means, and the raw basil ranch dressing is so persuasive, that the shiny curly kale relaxes and becomes a salad to reckon with. Pine nuts add crunch.

I just had an entirely kelp-and-kale-based meal. That was raw. And it rocked.

This is the Raw Supreme Pizza. It is indeed raw, it's confidently supreme, but it's only pizza in the sense that there is a supportive disc on which toppings repose.

The crust is made of sunflower seeds. And while it looks as if you need the beak of a finch to properly peck it apart, it's actually like a crunchy granola cereal in consistency, and sweet but with a hint of cumin and chili powder. The marinara appears again, almost like a barbecue sauce, spread thinly over the surface.

The SunPower "Sausage" is no closer to sausage than tempeh is to bacon, but it provides a crumbly, seasoned variance in texture. Tomatoes are here, with a flare of marinated red peppers and onions. The basil ranch is drizzled over all, but I'd just as soon have more of the marinara.

That familiar green stripe is more of that kale salad.

Is this for real? Should I be making fun of myself, "eating birdseed" and "rabbit food"? Should this be tasting this good?

They also have pizzas with whole wheat pita crusts if you're terrified of the raw sunflower seed affair.

If anyone from SunPower offers you a Sweet Kale Shake, take it. Everyone else in the room will nod appreciatively.

It tastes like nothing else, and not at all like you'd expect "kale" and "shake" to taste. It is sweet like it says, strong with almond and vanilla extract, banana, and agave. Shavings of coconut, cacao beans and goji berry are strewn for color.

When not getting a smoothie, I like a Lemon/Ginger Blast, a frothy juice made of mouth-squeezing awesome.

There is lots of iffy metered parking along Cahuenga; about every second meter will swallow your money but suddenly remember to tell you FAIL. Some spots open up at night in the alley behind. However, since Cahuenga at night becomes absolutely unreasonable, with every automobile in Studio City trying to get onto the 101 South, and every meter full, and every car occupied by an irritable and not-entirely-wailing Ventura Boulevard driver, getting to SunPower for dinner is a cause for weeping and gnashing of teeth. It's one reason why they should relocate close to me. For my health.

* They aren't really that far from me. Eight minutes north on the 101. It's the principle of the thing.

A bit of Lima at Louise
8246 Louise Ave. (@ Roscoe, in Northridge)
Phone: 818-708-7061 | map | website

It is roomier than it looks, a humble counter facing walls of red. Rainbows of blankets lie under acrylic tablecloths. The interior is modest, but Peru's Taste gives Puro Sabor a run for its nuevos soles with the skill of its kitchen.

I first try a Peruvian/Chinese staple, the Pollo Saltado, dark chicken stir-fried with french fries and the ever-present red onion and tomato. The french fries are wan and uniform and probably not homemade; they are not the focus of this.

It is something about the juices. Delicate colors of green herb and dark spice gather toward something sublimely delicious, soaking into the foot of the steamed rice rising like a step pyramid above the plate. The taste can be savored for long minutes afterward; even a single slice of limp red onion is worthy of praise.

With over 2400 kilometers of coastline, Peruvian fare should be capable with the seafood, and it is reflected here. The Pescado a la Chorrillana is from Chorrillos, a district on the sound end of Lima, and it is my new favorite fish dish. Two large fillets are fried lightly, tender and shreddy, utterly unlike a fluffy beer-battered fish 'n chips style. Tomato and red onion, of course, are sautéed and laid over them like a romantic plot.

Peru also has an obsession with the potato, as might be assumed from the fries one sees in saltado dishes. On this plate there is a potato, sliced in half; each half is itself fried. The result is one potato-sized french fry, which seems unwise but really makes a lot of flavorly sense, and beats a baked potato two throws out of three.

The plantains here--porción de platano frito--are caramelized into deep browns and ambers, beautifully sweet and barely crispy at the ends. I will crave these too.

Their version of the puréed chili sauce known as aji is the color of mustard and instantly furious, the hottest of the Peruvian places I know except possibly for Mamita. It gives your tongue no greeting or attention at all, preferring to leap over it and slam into the back of your throat.

What else... I must try the salchipapas. French fries and sausage? Why isn't this already popular? French fries and sausage. Please. Write your Congressperson.

The chicha morada is thin and sweet and not memorable, but you're going to drain it quickly when you've dabbed too much aji over your dish.

Peru's Taste is in an uneven little corner mall (note the strange angles in the first photo), so parking is plentiful.

The Peruvian poll:

Mario's: Best Chance for Being Carted Home in a Basket
Los Balcones del Perú: Classiest Place for Making Yourself Useless
Lola's: Best Chicha Morada
Mamita: Most tongue-spanking Aji sauce
Peru's Taste: Most savory sauces
Puro Sabor: Best Lomo Saltado
Choza Mama: Most comfortably home-style

If only they had a bottle of Arrack
9035 Reseda Blvd. (hidden somewhere in Northridge)
Phone: 818-998-6900 | map

I came across Priyani during a halfhearted street fair in Encino, tired of ignoring the offers for discounted chiropractic adjustment and requests to join local alliances. Steaming curry dishes, offered with broad smiles from this booth, had me pocketing their menu until I could make my way over to their hidden kitchen.

You will neverevereverever find this place if you were just driving about searching for a new favorite Sri Lankan restaurant between classes at CSU Northridge.

Its interior is an attempt to convert what would be a liquor store or a supermarket space (unsurprising since it's stuffed next to an Indian market) into a comfortable, homely kitchen. Southeast Asian influences abound: red Buddha statues, Thai elephant prints, Indian cloth, tiny Chinese lanterns. Good curry smells draw you in. You may have to ding the bell if the place seems empty, but chopping sounds will be heard from behind the wall.

Enjoy a vibrantly sour but silky iced tea as you peruse the abbreviated menu. There are regular items, but look for whatever they're making that day, and if someone recommends something to you, take it.

This is not a smiley face, but it might as well be. The patti is familiarly shaped, a plush, flaky shell hiding meat chopped into a chicken salad-like filling. The bouncy spheres called cutlets have a lot of give without being oily and abrasive; you can collapse them to half their thickness without breaking the exterior. The flavor is much like the Lebanese kibbeh at Skaf's.

Both appetizers could use more warmth, but a sriyani sauce is available, like a ruddy sriracha with a burst of throat heat.

This is Mutton Kotthu. I could say there's things in this dish like crispy onion, thin slivers of scallion, carrot and tomato, but those ingredients are in lots of dishes across the world, and don't describe the depth of this creation.

Roti, a thin, unleavened bread of Gothamba flour, is cut into squares and rendered until stained dark with spice, its texture like Thai flat noodles--amazingly so. The mutton is as soft as stewed beef, but resilient as faith, imparting its strong flavor to the murky roti. You may need to impale some of it on a fork and wrest it away from the bone with your teeth. It's worth it.

This was a recommendation given to me while perusing the menu; I promptly got lost trying to follow its description and have failed to satisfactorily record its contents, but nodded enthusiastically. It combines lots of their curry and biryani dishes; the entire affair is prepared atop basmati rice, gathered up in a massive banana leaf, and steamed.

There is chicken curry, delicate and moist and indicative of how good their chicken curries are by themselves. Chopped onion is made meek and yielding. Eggplant is deeply colored and tasty. Plantains like reedy potatoes are there, skin included, but steamed soft and yellow with spice.

You know kari,those curry leaves, those tiny ones that aren't bay leaves but are usually placed in southeast Asian dishes to stab you in the mouth and force you to draw them out? These are actually cooked, curling with heat, and soft enough to be edible. Even one of those spherical cutlets is included, falling apart. All of these give a splendid aftertaste and a low-key burn.

How did I miss this?
18415 Vanowen St. (east of Reseda)
Phone: 818-708-3344 | map | website

This is the original joint owned by the family that runs Melody's over on Reseda. They have similar color schemes, in that just about every color is present, especially an electric blue on the walls and enough smiling porcelain sun-god faces to wonder if you're being spied upon.

Las Fuentes is bigger in every respect, but possesses a tighter heavy-duty production assembly. There is an area to order, an area to pick up your drinks and baskets of warm chips, an area to pick up your food, a time to every purpose, under Heaven, etc. Once they call your order in English and Spanish through the loudspeaker, wade through the sea of shuffling people bearing trays and tubs of salsa.

I'm unsure how they accomplish this, considering the high volume of customers, but I'd say Las Fuentes is the better kitchen. This lovely tortilla-cloaked example has no red sauce on it; it's skin-on, wonderfully grilled chicken, and nothing else. No onions (although you put some on from the salsa bar), no cilantro (although you put some on from the salsa bar), and no salsa (etc.). It is glorious and textured, like a crackly mouthful of chicharron.

Not to be outdone, the writhing, violently colored mass that is the Taco de Machaca has enough content to force you to use a fork until it is half gone, at which time you can safely pick it up. The tender, tomato-reddened stew meat seems almost too good for the two poor corn tortillas.

And, oh. This. Another taco you want to try, if only once, is the Taco de Carne con Queso, a thing of savory, explosive beauty. It's cubed steak with tomatoes, with white cheese melted over it, and you aren't sure whether to eat it or pull it up to your shoulders and take a cozy nap under it. A schmear of beans rests underneath for traction. This will cure your hangover... or really, your desire to do anything afterwards.

Whatever meat you order with the Burrito Especial will be deluged with a mass of tasty refried beans and thick slices of avocado. I crave the Al Pastor with its moodily seasoned demeanor and its crispy edges. You can get them Gringo Style, which means there's ranchera sauce and melted cheese over it. The quesadillas, too, are piled high and startle you with the sheer amount of food they hook you up with.

I am very sad at being so full. I have, intentionally and with malice aforethought, eaten too much Las Fuentes, and it is all the fault of my dear friend Doug R. I blame friend Erik H., too, because they used to come here all the time after the clubs closed and I never knew about it.

Las Fuentes is open every day at eight in the morning, so you can get your Huevos al Gusto or your Papas con Chorizo, until 11 at night. A claustrophobic strip along the building serves as a parking lot, for both the restaurant and the folkloric art gallery next door.

North Valley Vegetarians Unite
17823 Chatsworth St. (in Granada Hills)
Phone: 818-360-3997 | map | website

Admittedly, if I was hired to track down some really outstanding and innovative vegetarian Chinese food, I would not expect to search along the aging stretch of Chatsworth Street in Granada Hills, within a thousand feet of my old high school*. But there it is; Vegetable Delight, despite its wartorn exterior, has my full support. Stare for a moment at the beautifully carved wooden mural in the window before entering.

Walking inside, you may wonder if you have plunged down a rabbit hole into a wedding in Toyland. Rows of gold-trimmed white booths gleam under ceiling tiles of powder blue; the water glasses are stuffed with baby pink pastel napkins. Somehow it's a happy absurdity, especially with the sound of keyboards and strings plunking Chinese melodies above, or of bereaved little piano concertos.

You suddenly realize that the room has the same salmon-and-spearmint color scheme as a Madame Alexander doll box. You may also suddenly wonder why Dave knows what the Madame Alexander color scheme is.

This is what you must order, because we say so. The "Chinese Pancake" is puffed and very slightly sweet, not entirely dissimilar to a wonton, perfect as is but utterly gush-worthy when you drip some of the lemony sauce over it. It is the appetizer of champions.

The Hot & Sour soup is pleasingly gelatinous, not dense enough to stand a spoon in but slowing everything down to a meditative crawl. It is rich, and beautiful, and obviously not one of those packaged deals other Chinese places might dole out. The Spring Rolls here also seem fresher than expected.

The Veggie Fish in Hot Bean Sauce may or may not have MSG, but is made of OMG. It looks a little dubious what with the lonely and purposeless carrots, peas and corn, like one of those TV dinners that used to come covered in foil instead of plastic. Pay no attention. These deep-fried "filets" with a thin skin of seaweed have a light crunch, in a thick, not-really-hot orange sauce, are insanely good. The chefs at Vegetable Delight are concerned with making flavorful dishes rather than merely cranking out the usual fare with meatless analogs.

The Tofu with Hot Bean Sauce, despite its similar naming convention, is totally different. Lightly fried triangular prisms of tofu** are combined with chopped green pepper and tiny mushrooms cut into quarters, as if to resemble peanuts; the sauce is thinner but soaks into the tofu nicely.

The Szechwan Shredded Veggie Beef has a slight textural resemblance but isn't fooling anybody. However, it's got a full-bodied presence, and combined with carrots and Chinese mushrooms cut into scalloped lengths, it's downright savory.

They kindly provide small dishes of red chili paste, decently hot, and a strong, take-a-blowtorch-to-your-nostrils Chinese mustard.

Vegetable Delight is open until 9:30 as Chinese restaurants often are, and are closed on Mondays, like restaurants over the hill often are. Come here for lunch. Why? Lunch and a Chinese pancake, enjoyed with a cup of hot tea, is under ten bucks.

* Going in the other direction, it's also a thousand feet from the seedy and abominable Oh Grady's, at which our good friends Bandwagon have played on occasion, and who hopefully will not be banned from Oh Grady's for my having called it seedy and abominable.

** This will be the name of my band if I ever create one. The Triangular Prisms of Tofu. Mathematically uniform and high in protein!